I'm so tired of working for the army. it's just stupid. now i am looking for work but it will probably take awhile.

I sure as hell hope john kerry and john edwards get elected. then i hope they start balancing the budget by taking every damn person and piece of equipment we own out of Iraq.

Joe has to go to Iraq but they probably won't get around to mobilizing his unit for at least a couple more months. We will enjoy the time we have before the hammer drops. I expect I'll be walking bowlegged by the time he leaves... and totally in a good way.

Last night I was so stressed out with work and all the changes that we decided to go to the baths. They've put in a dungeon. It's very cool. I'd never tried a sling before but man was it fun.

Dungeon. HAHAHAH. That is SO not me.

I have not blogged lately. I've been depressed. Joe's leaving for Iraq. His entire career field is being mobilized. I hate it. Later, I'll say just how MUCH I hate it but for now, "I hate it" will have to do.

It's been awhile since I've blogged but I have an excuse. I was in Paris. Paris, France.

There is nothing much better than being in Paris, France for a week without a care in the world. The only thing you have to do is wake up in the arms of your lover and wonder where you are going to get your coffee and baguette that morning when you are done being lazy and in bed. And what a place to wake up in a lover's arms. Paris.

Joe knew about this place on the left bank with big rooms, high ceilings, french doors that opened onto the Seine and a bathroom that looks like it's out of "Architectural Digest." I loved the suite the minute we opened the doors.

It's been a week of walks, late breakfasts in cafes, reading, a couple museums and lots of good music. We haven't been spoken to rudely, abused by a single waiter or criticized for being Americans.

It was a gracious and well timed week. I am reminded again that the scale of the city is superb.

After Paris, we drove back through the Alsace and Lorraine (not in that order). French country houses, big farms, champagne vineyards, spectacular gardens. Quite a drive. Big change crossing the border into Germany.

Joe and I decided to go to Paris on the spur of the moment. We're living on borrowed time because he is probably going to be sent to Iraq. I won't hang around in Europe waiting, I'm looking for work in the states.

I wish Joey would get out of the Marine Corps and take his chances with me, but he won't. He's not ready and I won't push him to it. No way.

We'll see. In the meantime, we are living for the day. On Friday we'll head for Venice in the car. We want to be FAR away from anything American for the fourth of July. The jingoism is too disgusting.

Paris. What a place.

It's been awhile since I've blogged but I have an excuse. I was in Paris. Paris, France.

There is nothing much better than being in Paris, France for a week without a care in the world. The only thing you have to do is wake up in the arms of your lover and wonder where you are going to get your coffee and baguette that morning when you are done being lazy and in bed. And what a place to wake up in a lover's arms. Paris.

Joe knew about this place on the left bank with big rooms, high ceilings, french doors that opened onto the Seine and a bathroom that looks like it's out of "Architectural Digest." I loved the suite the minute we opened the doors.

It's been a week of walks, late breakfasts in cafes, reading, a couple museums and lots of good music. We haven't been spoken to rudely, abused by a single waiter or criticized for being Americans.

It was a gracious and well timed week. I am reminded again that the scale of the city is superb.

After Paris, we drove back through the Alsace and Lorraine (not in that order). French country houses, big farms, champagne vineyards, spectacular gardens. Quite a drive. Big change crossing the border into Germany.

Joe and I decided to go to Paris on the spur of the moment. We're living on borrowed time because he is probably going to be sent to Iraq. I won't hang around in Europe waiting, I'm looking for work in the states.

I wish Joey would get out of the Marine Corps and take his chances with me, but he won't. He's not ready and I won't push him to it. No way.

We'll see. In the meantime, we are living for the day. On Friday we'll head for Venice in the car. We want to be FAR away from anything American for the fourth of July. The jingoism is too disgusting.

Paris. What a place.

WHAT a week.

My U.S. Army Major ("Rush Limbaugh is the only honest and unbiased media personality out there") stalker won't leave me alone. I swear he has a crush on me. He sent his dog faced wife and two wierd kids to northern Germany (???) for the summer. Now he wants to be my new best friend. He's as screwed up as a soup sandwich. I told him to get out of my office and not come back. Joe thinks he's a creep too.

Joe and I are heading for Paris. Time for some love in the city of love.

Issue girl is back from vacation with more issues than ever. She seems to be talking to Brad about them more than me. That's a good thing. When Brad gets fed up he tells her to "talk to the hand."

Last night Brad went to the bath house and met the "biggest" guy he's ever been with. He is going back for more tonight. I wish him well and I hope nothing rips.

Luke's love life is in melt down just now.

There but for the grace of god go I. Nonetheless... Joe and I are off for Paris. I hope nothing rips.

Joe and I went to the baths with Brad last night. It's always more fun to go when it's raining because the place is packed. Last night was no different. We hung out in the bar for awhile, watching people go up and down the stairs. That tells a lot. How a guy goes up and down stairs while wearing only a towel is indicative of a lot of other things.

The sauna was so freaking dark you couldn't see. I hate it when it's that dark in there. All that bumping, and not in a good way.

We saw several people we knew. Mostly we sat around in the chairs watching the parade and joking with each other. When all the bears got out of the hot tub, we took it over and sat there for awhile.

This sauna is CLEAN with a vengeance. These Germans understand cleanliness. It makes for a nice time because you are not worried about getting foot rot or some other awful thing just from having been there. The towels are good too.

The staff always wants to know if you "had a good time" when you leave. We had a GREAT time.

There was some new construction going on downstairs for the last few weeks. We discovered that they have put in another video room (a nice one) and a dungeon! There was even a sling. I've never BEEN in a sling but it looked like it could be kind of interesting.
Joe said he had and it was fun. Brad said "no way" which I thought was funny because if anyone in our group of friends was apt to sign up for sling time, I would have thought it would be Brad.

Brad, by the way, still describes himself as "republican" but has agreed not to vote for Bush. Maybe that's why the no sling thing. Republicans probably don't get a lot of sling time.

I'm a democrat though. Bring it on.

Joe and I were visiting my family. He can't believe how much I look like my dad. People have told me that I look like my mom but I can't see it. Besides, at 6 feet, 3 inches tall and two hundred fifteen pounds, I'd look pretty stupid with big tits and big hair.

After mom and dad left, Joe and I had a romantical trip along the Cinque Terra, Monaco and the French Riviera. A guy could get awfully tired of working if he did too much of this kind of thing.

Getting back to Germany was stupid. Rainy, cold, nasty. German summer. I fancy the weather must be like this all the time in Rumsfeld's office only colder.

We're starting to get a real bad feeling about the whole election / Iraq thing. More and more troops are being sent and we are starting to see the first departures from here. I'm looking for work back in the states but so far haven't found anything.

Joe says he's staying in long enough to retire so the writing's on the wall. I wish he'd get out but Marines are stubborn. Even the gay ones. Maybe the gay ones are MORE stubborn than the other ones.

I got a fund raising letter from Kerry today... well, from two of my friends who are working for Kerry (Ben and Ben). I sent 2000 dollars. I'll just pay my damn property taxes next month.

I hope it helps.

I dropped off film to be developed today and saw a guy so good looking that if he walked down the street in New Orleans, he'd turn heads in Algiers. He was working at the film counter. I can't remember whether I just flirted or actually dropped off any film as well. I don't care.

I'm going to send Joe back to pick up the photos to see if he has a similar reaction or if it's just me.

Father Mike is visiting. We just call him "Mike" but he's Father Mike. He's a Jesuit Priest. He's a university professor. He's a musician. He's an art historian. He's smart as hell. I have feelings of inadequacy when I'm around him.

Last night, we met Sinead and Mick for a late supper at the Italian pizza joint. Luca the waiter was just back from France looking tanned and as beautiful as ever. When we commented on how brown he was he looked at me with a smirk. I answered his tanned, self-satisfied look with the doleful phrase "Sono un pesche bianco!" It's true too. I am as white as a mackerel. We have had no spring here. Sinead loves it but she's not right anyway. I hate it. (I haven't sat out on my balcony even one time yet this season).

Dinner was great. The food's not as good as at my favorite Italian joint here but it was GOOD. Mike had a calzone that could have eaten Manhattan. I've never seen such a big thing. Whatever Mick had looked good. Some sort of pepper steak. Sinead, who is already so skinny she can play her ribs like a xylophone, ate three leaves of spinach and one slice of hard boiled egg. She didn't go hungry though, she filled up on San Pelligrino. I had lasagna. I didn't go hungry either.

We drank Grapa but not enough although by the time we left at 1130 it was beginning to dawn on us that the next day was a workday so all's well that ends well.

Luke is back from traipsing through the south of France with the fish king's ex. He missed an opportunity. He should have gone for the sexy Euro buzz upon leaving. It's easier to come back to work with a radical hairstyle change after a vacation.

Sinead is putting something in her hair that comes out of a bottle that looks like a pink dildo. It almost makes me wish I had long hair. She got it off the internet from a miracle worker who specializes in hair emergencies.

Gunther the gay hairdresser (overstatement? I think NOT) put platinum zebra stripes in her tawny tresses. When the crying was over, she turned to the internet. Voila! Pink dildo gel to the rescue.

Last night at dinner, Sinead showed me Mick's passport photo. Jesus! If I dated someone that baby-faced they'd call me a chicken hawk! He looks older now but he's still pretty fresh looking. Give him a week with us alone, he won't look so fresh (cheers Mick!).

"Your mouth is hanging open."

"No it's not, Joe!"

"Yes it was."

"Was not."

That's how it went as I was reading the latest letter from the DEPARTMENT OF THE NAVY.

"I don't believe this shit" I said.

"What?"

I handed Joe the letter. It was a follow-up letter to the last one I got. This one "established the legal authority for recalls." "You know Joe," I said, "With things getting ready to wind down in Iraq, why the big push now?"

Joe looked at me and said "duh."

"What?"

"Wind DOWN? Are you KIDDING?"

That's when it hit me. This crowd in power wants things to completely blow up in Iraq after the handover of power. In fact we will probably find a reason to jump ugly with Syria while we're at it.

"I'm not going back on active duty, Joe. I'm not."

"What will you do?"

"I'll declare my homosexuality. I won't go back on active duty."

"It might cost you your current job too."

"So what." I said. " don't care. I don't know what the hell I'll do to pay the bills but I don't care."

The thing about being a "gay american wandering the world" is that it's a little pretentious sounding in a blog description. Face it, it's pretentious in any context. Imagine, a gay man being pretentious.

I don't want to be associated with the NASCAR crowd though, or the baptists, or their ilk. I hate ilk. I like being a GAY american because at least we get a sort of sympathy vote for being (perceived) liberal in a country where we are roundly despised.

These Europeans are much better to their gays than we are. We hate ours. Russia hates theirs too. Zhirinovsky is calling for camps and death penalties. Bush probably would too, if he thought he could get away with it. In the meantime he'll leave that sort of opining to Wolfowitz.

When these Italians we were talking to in Milano started in on us (with our square jawed military looks) about the crap going on in Iraq we told them "hey, we're against it too."

"How can you be against it too?" they asked.

"We're gay." We answered.

That stopped 'em cold. The kind of stop you get when the words and music completely don't match. They couldn't believe it. So we kissed and told them we were lovers. Then they believed it. Italians are passionate about their passion.

One of them said "so good looking, both of you! What a loss to zee women!"

Their loss, our gain.

The other gain to be made was the shift in tide. All of a sudden we had (our shorn, military looks notwithstanding) credibility as LIBERALS. It was a refreshing shift. Then the fun talk really began. We got to hear real opinions and share some.

There are a few more Italians now who know that not all americans are like madge and bob from dubuque.

This morning I woke up hearing the Italian delivery boys talking to the hotel owner on the street below. We had slept with the window open. Warm night in Venice. What great sounds. Beyond the street I could hear the grand canal.

I nestled into Joe wondering if he would have to go to Iraq and if I would be able to bear coming back to Venice again any time soon if he had to go. Let Bush go to Iraq and fight his own war.

I fell back asleep and the next thing I heard was the shower. I went in and got in it with Joe. Then we went down and had some turbo coffee. I love Italy. We ordered omlettes so we had an excuse to drink more coffee.

We'll drive back today, over Brenner pass, down into Innsbruck and then on to Munich. Germany always seems a bit of a let down after Italy but the scenery is so beautiful on the way back. The alps are still snowy this time of year and the flowers are starting on the lower slopes. Joe likes to drive so I'll relax and watch the scenery and take a turn if he gets tired. He won't get tired.

Luke and Natasha are in France. They called on the cell phone to tell us to forget about using condoms because now they cause cancer. I'll take my chances with cancer before I'll take my chances with aids. Besides, I don't think condoms really cause cancer.

I assume from the tenor of Luke's call that Natasha is on the pill. Not an issue for us.

Work tomorrow. Ugh. Not so bad though because I have another break coming up in three weeks. We'll head for France.

Joe and I decided that if I get my recall notice I will officially come out to the military. I won't be recalled. Period. Coming out will likely cost me my civil service job too, since I work for the army. Let the chips fall where they may.

By week's end we hadn't heard any more about his situation. We're holding our breaths and trying to pretend like it's no big deal. I can't believe we are so at the mercy of unknown forces. We could have our entire lives blown apart by these bastards and we have nothing to say about it.

I hope Kerry gets elected. I wonder though, if it will make a difference?

Joe and I are enjoying Italy. We started with a day in Vernoa. One of the things I like best about Verona is that it is not on the main drag for tourism. I don't mind tourism or tourists but it's fun to hang in a city that's a little more laid back. The roman ruins are as spectacular as ever and so are the roman men. Plenty of FINE looking men in this country. Joe and I attract our share of attention too.

Now we're in Venice and we've met a nice couple. Angelo and Mike. Angelo is a gondolier and Mike is an ex fullback from Texas A&M. They met in Milano and fell in love (a year ago). Mike hasn't found his way back to Texas yet.

We are meeting them for dinner later. I love the late Italian dinners, especially this time of year when it is so warm and beautiful and clear in Venice. Mike and Angelo live near our hotel. We're going to meet at Trattoria Al Cugnai for crabs, something with nero sauce and probably some beautifully done sole. We'll wash it down with a good Veneto white. Hopefully a soave. Then we'll go for a ride in Angelo's gondola. It doesn't get any better than that.

The buildings are so beautiful from the water. These last two days have been romantic and fun.

Luke is on the road too. He and the fish king's ex wife are headed for the south of France for a week. 'Tis the week for love in the latin places, I guess.

France is in a couple weeks for us. We're headed to a big jazz festival at Samois sur Seine and then on to Paris before we go home.

Joe's getting out of the shower so I'm going to shut off the computer and go do something better before dinner.

Luke is a good cook. Today he cooked swami food at the office. It was yellow and probably didn't have any meat in it. Joe would have hated it. He'd rather eat a plate of cat.

Sinead is invisible today. I guess I won't see her until next week since I'm taking tomorrow off and Joe and I are heading to Italy for the next four days. It's going to be nice.

American money should have the face of the current president and vice president as well as other cabinet officers on it. People would scrutinze their job performance more closely if they had to look at these people every time they pulled some moolah out of their wallet.

Of course it wouldn't help the international monetary excange rates to our favor. The dollar is weak enough already! Putting the current american president on, say, a 20 dollar bill and the veep on a sawbuck wouldn't necessarily do much to help the French or the Germans cozy up to us. The Saudis would probably be okay with it though.

Luke thinks my idea is stupid. I thought of it while we were getting a mid-morning breakfast at the coffee shop across the river. Rodrigo pulled one of the new 20 dollar bills out of his wallet. Luke said "now I know where Michael Jackson got the picture he showed his plastic surgeon!" Wait. Rodrigo said that.

That's when I got my idea. If we implemented my plan, we wouldn't have to worry about term limits anymore. And think of the engraving options! Do we put Bush with his bicycle fall induced road rash or with is toothy "mission accomplished" smile? Do we put Cheney on there with his "I don't care if my daughter IS a lesbian" jaw set or his "liberals are evil" grimace? What bill do we put Rumsfeld on? Probably a 5. I hear they use a lot of 5 dollar bills in prisons.

Regardless of Luke's misgivings, it's a good idea.

Last night Earth Mother cooked chinese food while her sassy husband and I watched one of the funniest movies ("the peculiarities of the national hunt") I have seen in a long time. It's a Russian movie from the early '90's. Several misfits with too much vodka on hand end up going on a hunt. One is from Finland. He can not speak Russian and none of the Russians can speak Finnish. He does manage to communicate in halting English (badly overdubbed by a crow-like woman). He also has a bizarre dialogue with one of the Russians in which he speaks Finnish and his counterpart answers in Russian.

There's a cow in the movie. I had never considered the comic quality of a cow but it's plain to me now. Cow's are funny. This particular cow (a black and white model) has several misadventures including a ride in a TU-95 bomber. The determined bossy managed to brace herself when they were trying to drop her out through the bombay doors. In the end she escaped, only to be shot at later. But she wasn't dead. She was only pretending. When one of the hunters went down to "cut a filet off of her." He was rewarded with a hard kick to the solar plexus. Then the cow ran away.

The film had a typical Russian ending. Not much of anything was resolved. It all pretty much stays the same. It's amazing how prodigiously Russians drink Vodka and how they miraculously escape maiming and injury given their advanced drunken states. Vodka flows and bullets fly throughout the entire movie and yet, no one ends up dead or with his ass shot off. Amazing. It's a FUNNY and well made film. Joe stayed in the kitchen flirting with Earth Mother and helping cook. He doesn't understand Russian.

My e-pal Dave in California has forgotten more about movies than I will ever know. He might find the film banal but I though it was GREAT. It beat the hell out of TROY but the men in it were grubby,skinny, and pale as opposed to Troy's bronzed and muscled beauties. Still, it was the better movie.

Rodrigo is after me and not in the good way. He wants me to accompany him on guitar while he blows his tenor saxophone. I stupidly said yes because I thought Luke was also saying yes but Luke has thrown me to the wolves and then made fun of me for it. Unlike the fish king, I am not bent on revenge. Karma will take care of Luke, it's not a job for me. That leaves me the luxury of still being a gracious friend. Luke was gracious too though. He said I could use his guitar so I don't have to go home and get mine. All the same, I'd rather be home doing laundry.

I had lunch with Rodrigo, the Martin-maton and Sinead yesterday. It was SUPPOSED to be lunch with Sinead but we attract people because we are fun. Sinead is sassy and political but in a good way.

Work is a complete hassle today but I'm doing my part to help the machine grind on.

First I got my bad letter. A bunch of my pals who retired when I did are being recalled to active duty. My letter was a "heads up" notice that I am "re-callable". They need people in the dessert and they need 'em now. Still reeling from "the letter," I found out yesterday that Joe got "the call."

Joe's detailer (that's military talk for the centralized personnel guy that makes assignments) called. He's in a combat arms specialty and is sitting in an academic job. His detailer told him that they need "boots on the ground" in Iraq and Afghanistan and not to get too comfortable.

I wonder if my new theme song will be "When your lover has gone?"

Joe and I went to see the new movie "Troy" and it was a hunkfest. It made me yearn for the days when kings took to the battlefield. I wonder what it would be like if Bush and Rumsfeld actually had to FIGHT their own wars? One can only wonder.

I liked the movie. It was visually stunning, moved along at a good clip, not hard to look at and full of testosterone. That's always good.

Today I am going to visit my favorite Turk and get my favorite haircut. I'm sure we'll talk politics. He's a lot of fun in a politics conversation. He knows his stuff. I always feel smarter after one of his excellent haircuts.

I couldn't help noticing that Luke is looking stunning today in his retro "do", euro glasses and oh so impeccable three button suit.

If the fish king were to rub him out today he wouldn't even have to be dressed for a funeral depending upon the method chosen. I hope Luke lasts a long time though. He's one of the good ones.

The phone rang at six o'clock this morning. Saturday morning. Ugh. Joe handed it to me and I "hulloed." It was the Military Police. Joe said "who is it, babe?" and the Military Police guy on the other end said "who was that?" "Nobody," I answered.

The call scared me. The nature of it was administrative, no big deal, something someone at work hadn't done and now I have to finish. The part that scared me was the "who was that?" question by the military cop.

Laying in bed at six in the morning with your boyfriend's head resting on your chest while you are talking on the phone is not necesarrily a scene the military police would cozy up to. It conjured up all kind's of bad images, especially in today's world of homeland security. Homeland INsecurity.

It's pathetic to have to go through life scared of a trained monkey military cop on the other end of the phone who invades your privacy with a trivial, non-related question. I'm going to talk to Joe. I got out of the military so I didn't have to live like this but now I'm right back in the middle of it by being a civil servant and dating a military guy.

We'll see. In the meantime, I'll head over to the MP station, drop off the requested documents, stop by the bakery on the way home for pastries, make coffee, slip back into bed and probably re-start my morning the proper way.

Maybe if these conservatives would get laid once in awhile they'd feel better about life.

Happy Saturday.

Bavaria is amazing in the spring time. The ALPS are still covered in snow, the wildflowers are blooming and the sky is so blue it hurts your eyes. Never mind the cars on the autobahn that pass you going 200 miles an hour. It's all over so fast you never really know they were ever there.

We're going to hike tomorrow. Last time I hiked I wore the wrong shoes and screwed up my foot but this time I'm prepared.

Today is not a good day to hike because it's a German Holiday. It's the day Jesus drove to heaven. A country so in love with it's cars and autobahn WOULD have a driving Jesus. Jesus didn't float, walk, or ride a wave. In Bavaria he DROVE to heaven. himmelFAHRT. It's just like AUSFAHRT or GUTEFAHRT. Jesus doesn't mess around in the land of the BMW.

Work is quiet. It's Thursday. Most of the Military guys have disappeared from our office today and tomorrow for a four day weekend. I'm going to disappear tomorrow. My plan is to just not come back after lunch. Joe's already off and we'll go hiking then. Maybe after that we'll go to Munich. The Lowen Club is having a prowl and we want to see what the really severe queers do for fun. Joe says it'll be "educational". I have my doubts.

Our company from home made all this noise about making trips while they were here but mostly they have laid around the house drinking all our wine and eating us out of house and home. They iron though, and do laundry and vacumn. That's not all bad. Saturday night we'll have dinner with them and Sinead and Mick at the General Patton and on Sunday Joe and I are going to leave them to their own devices and go somewhere alone. They leave Monday. Whew.

I like them but I'll be glad to have our place back. Next company comes in less than a month and will stay for a month. She's cool though - favorite aunt. (check with me when she's been there three weeks to see how cool she is)

Big fat bees are coming in my open windows at work today. They're hanging around up on the flourescent light fixtures. It's more like summer than spring. I hope it lasts.